I LIBIL'IRY OF CONGRESS.! 

#|'«P- •:•■■-: fopSriSl't |o ^ 



I DNITED STATES OP MIERICA. f 



DREAM LIFE AND OTHER POEMS. 



DREAM LIFE 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



BY 



STOCKTON BATES. 




PHILADELPHIA 
CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER; 

819 AND 821 Market Street. 
1872. 



^■\".' 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

STOCKTON BATES, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 



Collins, Pniiter, 



-Ps 



>'^- 



-<m^ 



^^^Em~ 






CONTENTS 



Dream Life . 

By the Sea . 

The Shadow of Death 

murmurings . 

The Starry Flag . 

In Ruins 

The Storm Fiend . 

Once We were One 

What are They? . 

Under the Wave . 

Out of the East . 

A Visit to Hades . 

Amore non Eterno 



PAGE 
13 
16 
18 
21 
22 
24 
27 

30 
32 

34 
38 
41 
44 



yi 



CONTENTS. 



Eureka 

Epigram ..... 
The Vision of Berthold 

My Loss 

Out of the Nest .... 
For the Love of Him . 
The Death of Chivalry 

The Wreck 

Lines to a Child on her Birthday 
Fallen Asleep .... 
The Bridal Toast 

Longings 

Fathoming Brains 

Nature's Bride .... 

Nobody Wanted It . . . 

Saved . . . . . 

A Voice from the Grave 

The Sentence .... 



CONTENTS. 



Say Not 


99 


Not Alone 


I02 


Divided 


104 


The Crime was not Mine 


106 


Song from the Servian 


. 108 


Song from the Servian 


. IIO 


Song from the Servian 


. Ill 


After Vacation .... 


. 112 


Desolation 


. 114 


A Summer Reverie 


. 117 


Whence and Where? . 


. 119 




PROEM. 

INSCRIBED TO THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. 

'^ I ^WICE has the year decayed, and twice 

The migratory bird has, toward the south, 
Winged its unerring flight ; the ice 
Twice hushed the streams, rain-filled since summer's 
drouth. 

Twice have the garnered fields turned sere ; 
The forests, twice, their varied foliage shed; 

Twice, wintry stars have glittered clear. 
Since in his tomb, from sight, I laid my dead. 

Thy friend, my father, lieth low; 
His words of counsel, like the brooks, are stilled. 

To whom but thee, then, can I go 
To pour the word-songs that my soul have filled? 



2 PROEM. 

The music of thy poet-words 
First waked my soul to rapture, as it strayed. 

Inspired by thee, the trembling chords 
My unskilled fingers first to touch essayed. 

The singer, though he sing his song 
With all the skill the ancient bards possessed. 

Sings not for self alone ; the throng 
Must feel the thrill with sympathetic breast. 

To man hath little good been wrought 
By hermit in his misanthropic cell, — 

The hidden light illumeth nought, — 
The talent, buried, never worked a spell. 

If I have talents rightly spent. 
Or made my light to shine that all might see; 

If I my energies have bent 
To aid the toilers in adversity; 

If I have struck an answering chord 
That sympathetically throbs in time 

To song of mine, or thought, or word. 
Then not in vain is my poetic rhyme. 




DREAM LIFE 



AND 



OTHER POEMS, 



DREAM LIFE. 

T HAVE wandered far in dream-land — 
-*" Through its valleys, o'er its mountains- 
Seen the splendor of its castles, 
Heard the music of its fountains. 



1 have watched its brightest song-birds 
Winging through enchanted bowers, 

Tasting dew from laden leaflets, 
Stealing honey from the flowers. 



14 DREAM LIFE. 

Often I have builded castles — 
Castles that had turrets — gilded 

Windows made of pearl and jasper — 
Lofty castles I have builded. 

And, within their walls of crystal, 

I have wooed some tuneful maiden — 

Bade her sing me lithesome music, 
Bring me buds, with perfume laden. 

How I long to wander thither — 

Lie and dream on banks of clover — 

Dream enchanting dreams forever, 
With the blue sky bending over. 

There untold wealth comes at bidding — 
Fortune smiles and all is gladness — 

None that come go empty handed — ■ 
Into joy is turned all sadness. 

But, alas ! the bliss I've tasted. 
In these moments, far too fleeting, 

Has been marred by one black spirit. 
That unbidden bids me greeting. 



DREAM LIFE. 15 

This black spirit chides my fancy, 

Shows me anvil, forge and fire, 
Hums the droning hum of Labor, 

Strikes strange discords from my lyre. 

Bids me leave enchanted dream-land, 

Leave its palaces and fountains — 
Seize the sledge and mould a fortune. 

Mould it out of iron mountains. 

'These are times," it says, "for action! 
Sinew, brain, and bone, and muscle 
Must be used for toil, not leisure — 
Busy toil, and noise, and bustle." 

Ah ! I fear that I may never 

Leave the realm of dreamful pleasures 
For the mill, or mine, or market. 

Though it were to reap earth's treasures. 

Still I '11 wander on in dream-land — 

Through its valleys, o'er its mountains — 

Roam along its woodland pathways — 
Bathe within its limpid fountains — 



1 6 BY THE SEA. 

Build my castles — woo my maidens — 
Sip from dewy cups die nectar — 

Dream bright dreams of poets' fancies, 
And forget this stern, grim spectre ! 



BY THE SEA. 

T~~\OWN by the sea, where the long stretch of sand- 
-■— ^ beach is broken by marl-pits, 

Filled with the wash of the tide. 
And dotted over with flecks of the brown, frothy 
foam -scum. 

There wandered I by its side. 

Chill blew the breath of the morning, and damp, as 
it swept o'er the billows; 
Shoreward the surf-crests on high 
Flapped their ragged, fringed edges with sullen mo- 
notony. 
Under the cold autumn sky. 



BY THE SEA. j^ 

Clumps of the dank, tangled sea-grass, washed uj^ 
with the surge of the breakers. 
Hid the crustacean's home; 
Heaped, like white mounds, lay the loose drifts be- 
yond where the waters 
Scalloped the wet sands with foam. 

No little hands, browned by the sun and the wind, 
gathered the varied gifts; 
Pebbles and rose-tinted shells, 
Strewn o'er the beach, lay untouched; mollusks, un- 
troubled by aught. 
Swayed in the swift-ebbing swells. 

Deep over deep — sky and ocean so vast that the sun- 
light shone faintly — 

Lost in the far-reaching gray — 
Dwindled to naught but a speck in a realm of infinity, 

Seemed I a waif blown astray. 

Seaward, one sail for a moment gleamed white in the 
path of a sunbeam, 
Then from my sight faded out. 



1 8 THE SHAD O W OF DBA TH. 

I was alone, hearing naught but the plunge of the 
breakers, 
Dashing in boisterous rout. 

Crushed by the limitless weight of sublimity, pausing 
I trembled. 
Awed with a strange, sad unrest. 
Hapless the fate were one doomed to exist but with 
nature — 
Life yields to life all its zest. 



THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

J IV /r ID purpling floods the glorious day was 

-^'■^ drowned; 
And, one by one, the glittering hosts of stars 
Appeared upon the shadowy plains of heaven. 
To march their nightly course around the sky. 
The shadows lengthening eastward, fell upon 
The stream, the wooded slope, the cultured vale. 



THE SHADO W OF DEA Til. 1 9 

The sleeping village and the bustling mart, 
Where Mammon, full of greed, oppresses men, 
And drives fair woman with the scorpion's lash. 
The wailings of the wretched and distressed, 
Borne on the winds, shriek o'er their homes, then sink 
To muttered murmurings. 

I sat beside 
The couch of suffering, and eagerly 
Gazed on the well-beloved form, to catch 
The faintest change for better or for worse. 
I saw the fair white hands convulsive clasped. 
The sad and sunken eye, the fevered brow ; 
And heard the short and labored breathings low. 
All silently I watched, till midway hung 
The moon 'twixt evening's twilight and the dawn^ 
I thought the shadows deepened and the air 
Grew chill. 

I looked upon my love — a smile 
Was lingering sweetly on the pallid lips — 
I kissed them then, and bent my head and wept. 
Lo ! thrilling from the dim unknown, I caught 
The holy melody of angel choirs; 
The notes, so soft and sad at first, soon swelled 



20 THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

To rapturous music, thrilling all my soul. 

I listened to the cadences, that rose 

And fell like ripples on some golden strand 

Of isles enchanted, and forgot my woe. 

But darker, denser seemed to grow the night ; 

I heard the rustling plumes of sombre shapes, 

Who. trailed their gloomy horrors o'er my heart; 

I saw the phantom shades flit noiselessly — 

Then all was still — and I was close to Death. 

I felt his icy fingers clutch the strings 

Of my poor trembling heart, and rudely snap 

Another of those slender threads that bind 

To earth — I felt his chilly, blighting breath 

Congealing all my hopes, so bright and warm ; 

And, crushed with agony, I bowed my head 

And prayed, with bitter tears, I too might die. 



AIURMURINGS. 



21 



MURMURINGS. 

QUEEN of a terraced garden reigned 
A lily — slender, graceful, pale. 
Around, luxurious buds — exotic flowers 
Paid courtly homage in her sylvan bowers, 
While humbler flowers from the dale 
Looked up with envy to the height she 'd gained. 

I lingered near, and heard, one day. 

The perfumed breath complaining low — 
''Ah! that I could be strong and ruddy-faced 
As yon bold dandelion. Were I placed 
In its position, I would bow. 
And gladly leave this wealth, this glitter gay." 

Then passing o'er the sunny green 
I heard the dandelion's moan — 
"O that I were as rich, and could but see 
The pomp of yonder queen bestowed on me ! 
I 'd soon forsake the haunts I 've known, 
And live in glory. Would I were a queen!" 



2 2 THE STARR Y FLA G. 

Within a quiet, shady nook 

I saw a sweet and modest flower — 
No voice complaining of its lowly lot — 
And thus I mused: "Ah ! in this humble spot 
Blooms, fit to grace a queenly bower. 
This violet, beside a hidden brook." 



THE STARRY YLkG, 

1 ^ROM proud Atlantic's surging waves 

To where the broad Pacific lies, 
And playfully the bright sand laves 
Beneath clear, sunny skies j 

From far along Canadian lines, 
The rocky borders of the land, 

To where the Gulf in beauty shines. 
And breaks upon the strand ; 



THE STARR V FLAG. 

From Alleghany's crested mounts, 
And on the Rocky' s summits gray, 

Where brightly, snow-fed crystal founts 
Are welling forth alway; 

On Mississippi's mighty tides. 
And on Ohio's silver stream. 

Or where the Susquehanna glides, 
Or Schuylkill's ripples gleam; 

Where Delaware, with current grave. 
Is sweeping outward to the sea; 

In every land, on every wave. 
The Starry Flag floats free ! 

And through all time this flag above. 
In triumph o'er Oppression's holds, 

Shall, in the light of peace and love, 
Unroll its glorious folds. 



23 



24 



IN Runvs. 



IN RUINS. 

T)IGOTRY bullded a turreted castle of darkness 
-*-^ and grandeur — 
Loftily towered the dome ; bleak were its corridors 
wide; 
Darkly the shadows fell o'er the valley, beneath its 
embrasures ; 
Stern were its minions, and bold, cruel its blasphe- 
mous rites. 



Priests, in its halls, uttered strange superstitions — de- 
lusive enigmas: 
Burned the hot flames of despair — dull were the 
beacons of hope. 
Scourgings, anathemas, self-abnegation were taught 
to the heart-sick : 
Virtue was daughter of woe — joy was the flower 
of vice. 



IN J^UINS. 25 

Through the sad valley I wandered, unmindful of 
youth's joyous morning: 
Groans filled this region of tears : weary, I prayed 
for repose. 
*' Through this castle of misery, bright lie the realms 
of the blessed, 
Pass ye its portals of stone." This on the high 
frowning arch. 

Turning in anguish, I cried, as I fled from the voices 
of sorrow, 
*' Why is no glistening ray gleaming on yon gloomy 
pile?" 
Lo ! as I spoke came a whisper of joy to my soul, 
saying, **Hope on! 
Down to the dust it must fall — glory will follow the 
night." 

Thither I came after manhood crowned the dim 
dreams of my childhood ; 
Yet stood the castle of woe, silent as tombs of the 
dead; 
c 



2 6 /^v J^UIXS. 

Where once towers of night had ascended in men- 
acing columns, 
Trembled the moss-covered walls, shattered and 
crumbling to earth. 

Glinting on time-worn, tottering pillars, bright fell 
the sunshine — 
Stealthily, silently, slow, labored the leveller, 
Time, 
Save when stones of dislodged superstition were 
hurled into darkness. 
Thundering down to their fall ; then all was still as 
before. 

Years hurried by, and again I wandered along in the 
valley; 
Grim nevermore; for the walls, fallen to dust of the 
plain. 
Giant-like slumbered in death's cold embraces no 
more to awaken — 
Floods of light gleamed o'er the vale — smiling and 
bright was the scene. 



THE SrORM FIEXD. 27 



THE STORM FIEND. 

/^~\N the wings of the wind rides the fiend of the 

^^ storm, 

Howling loud with delight, 
Through the dark gusty night; 

Screaming wildly and shrill o'er the shivering form. 
Sinking dumb with affright 
At the tempest's fierce might, 

While the blood seems to chill in the bosom so warm. 

When the sail into ribbons is torn by the gale, 

Floating out on the air 

Like a maniac's hair; 
When the tall mast is splintered, and strong men turn 
pale. 

Then his eyes seem to glare. 

As they sink in despair. 
And his heart throbs anew to the wind's dismal wail. 



28 THE STORM FIEND. 

When the tempest-toss'd wreck, overcome by the blast, 

Is engulfed by the waves. 

Then he capers and raves. 
And he yells to the few who are struggling aghast, 

The sad knell of the braves 

Who have sunk to their graves. 
Far below the wild waste, buried deep as the past. 

From the sea to the land, over mountain and vale. 
His wild course swiftly takes 
Over meadows and brakes, 
Sighing low to the plain, moaning soft through the 
dale. 

And then tossing the lakes 
Into feathery flakes. 
While the white foam, like chaff, is blown wide by 
the gale. 

Round the snug cottage home disappointed he plays, 
While each rusty hinge creaks : 
Down the chimney he shrieks. 

But is forced to withdraw, for the bright, cheerful blaze 
Leaps in fiery streaks, 
While the sparks, with strange freaks. 

Circle up to the air in a wildering maze. 



THE STORM FIEND, 29 

Then he tries at the door, and then rattles the sash ; 

Like a beggar he moans 

O'er the vine-covered stones. 
Swelling out on the ear comes the rain's sudden splash, 

And the fierce, angry tones 

Only echo his groans, 
As he whisks round the eaves with a flurry and dash. 

But secure from all harm, guarded well from the chill 

Of the storm fierce and wild, 

Lies the slumbering child. 
And the family around listen, fearless of ill, 

To the voice, sweet and mild, 

Of the mother, who smiled 
As she read of that One who the storm's wrath could 
still. 




30 ONCE WE WERE ONE. 



ONCE WE WERE ONE. 

OHE used to come, with childish grace, 
*^-^ And steal her hand within my own. 
And fondly gaze into my face. 

As if to search some depth unknown : 

She used to wind her soft, white arm 
Around, and fondly cling to me. 

While showering tender kisses warm — 
Ah ! happiness not long to be. 

She used to soothe my throbbing brain 
With loving words, so soft and mild. 

That e'en her presence banished pain, 
And I was from my woe beguiled. 

Oft have I clasped unto my breast 
Her lithe and almost fairy form ; 

And there her weary head could rest 
Secure from every breath of storm. 



ONCE WE WERE ONE. 

But now, ah ! now, unhappy change ! 

All careless of each warm caress, 
She seems so chill, so cold, so strange, 

So careless of my sad distress. 

I know not why, but it doth seem 
As though a river, deep and cold. 

Rolled on its broad, resistless stream 
Between the now and days of old. 

Yet, broad the stream, and deep the tide 
That flows between the paths we tread ; 

It once was not so very wide. 
And shallow was its rocky bed. 

I '11 turn me, then, and trace the way 
To where this envious stream begun ; 

Perhaps she '11 meet me, and we may 
Yet be, as once we were, but one. 



31 




32 



WHAT ARE THEY? 



WHAT ARE THEY? 

CHILDHOOD 

IS 

A MISTY dawn with rosy light ; 
-^ -^ A playful, babbling, careless stream 
Stringing gems of water-pearl ; 

A joyous spot of sunny gleam; 
A perfumed flower, fresh and bright ; 

A vine whose tendrils twining curl 
Around the parent stems. 

YOUTH 

IS 

A spring-time path thro' orchard trees, 

Strewn thick with blossoms, white and pink. 

Fringed with rows of fragrant hedges; 
A grassy slope, where on the brink 

The gulfy pools laugh in the breeze. 
And dash their mimic waves o'er ledges 
Of pearls and golden gems. 



IVIIA T ARE THE VF 

MANHOOD 

IS 

A dusty way thro' Summer's heat, 

With care and sorrow, pain and tears; 

A fruitless strife for tasteless joy; 

A moment's calm with days of fears, 

Where bitter taints the little sweet; 
Desires fret — possessions cloy — 
Till wearied efforts cease. 

OLD AGE 

IS 

A snow-blown journey to the grave, 
With memories of the bitter past; 

A reed, whose slender stem must sway 
Before the fury of the blast ; 

To childish fancies oft a slave. 

Until the weary head, grown gray, 
Lies down to sleep in peace. 



^- 



33 




34 



UNDER THE WAVE. 



UNDER THE WAVE. 

"I3 ECLINING, one day, on the bank of a river, 
-*- ^ Fanned by the soft zephyrs, on noiseless- 
winged feet, 
I watched the white sails that, with flutter and quiver. 
Stretched forth their great arms the cool breezes 
to greet. 

I gazed on the scene till my vision grew clouded ; 

The white-capped waves, dancing, seemed wrapped 
in a blaze ; 
The sails slowly vanished ; then all became shrouded 

In soft, indistinct, and light feathery haze. 

And, sleeping, I dreamed that an angel of brightness, 
Poised on the faint verge of a rose-colored mist. 

Gently floating along with aerial lightness, 

Came softly to earth and my longing lips kissed. 



UNDER THE WAVE. 35 

That touch, like a flash of electric light, glancing, 
Thrilled deep to my quivering heart's inmost core; 

She spoke, and the tones were like music entrancing. 
Or water that murmurs through pearls to the shore. 



*'0h come! to the depths of this far-rolling river, 
And view the strange wonders contained in its 
grasp; 

Fear not the slight chill, it is only a shiver. 

As passing as pleasure when passion's arms clasp." 



"*v Down ! down ! 'neath the waves of the broad stream, 
descending 
With swiftness of light from the great central source, 
We glided unchecked through the waving plants, 
bending 
Their blades as we passed on our perilous course. 

Around, with wide wonder, the finny tribes darted, 
Disturbed by the stranger invading their home, 

Unlike the cold corpse, when the soul has departed. 
Whose form is enshrouded in sedge-grass and foam. 



^e UNDER THE WAVE. 

Along the white sands, where untold jewels glistened, 

Our feet lightly trod on the smooth, yielding floor. 

Through groves, under arches, in caves, where we 

listened 
To hear the deep music of waves on the shore; 

Then onward, until to a fairy-like palace, 
Of rarest gems formed, on an emerald bank, 

Where beautiful nymphs bore a golden-rimmed cha- 
lice, 
O'erflowing with nectar the Naiad Queen drank. 

The walls were of crystal, and on them was tracing 
Of snow scenes, and ice caves, star-studded and 
bright ; 

The weird, fairy pictures, the Frost King disgracing. 
Illumined the deep with their radiant light. 

A table of jasper, with bright jewels laden. 

Was spread for a feast to the queen and her train ; 

The goblets of diamonds were carved for each 
maiden. 
And sparkled like sunlight on dewdrops or rain. 



UNDER THE WAVE. 37 

The loveliest sirens in green mantles gambolled, 
Or sailed in their boats, made of pearl-shell and 
gold, 
Or into soft, rose-tinted archways they rambled. 
And sang till their songs in sweet echoes were 
rolled. 

Soft breathings, like ripples o'er moon-silvered rivers. 
Low murmured, yet joyous, unceasingly roll ; 

Now swelling, now sinking, the clear cadence quivers. 
And flows o'er the sense like repose o'er the soul. 

Then onward we roamed through the realms of the 
fairies, 
Who welcome the weary when woe-worn and weak, 
And watched the strange fish that, like birds from 
their eyries. 
Swooped down on their prey from some water- 
worn peak. 

Its wonders of coral, its valleys and mountains. 
Its riches of diamonds, its palace then sank. 

With sirens, and mermaids, and music, and foun- 
tains — 
And I lay asleep on the buttercup bank. 



38 OUT OF TJIK EAST. 



OUT OF THE EAST. 

/^^UT of the east comes up the morning sun ; 
^-^ Into the west he sinks when day is done : 
The clouds along the far horizon's rim 
Gleam through the western twilight-shadows dim 
The changeful castles of the dying day 
Charm for awhile, then crumble to decay ; 
Or, flashing into flames of glorious light, 
Illume the darkling pathways of the night. 

Out of the east slow lifts the round-faced moon, 

And in the zenith, swings at night's dark noon. 

Far o'er the landscape falls in mellow rays 

'I'he soft reflection of the solar blaze. 

Into the west she passes from the sight 

Soon as the eastern slopes are bathed in light, 

Nor lingers long upon the flowery lawn 

To welcome with her smiles the blushing dawn. 



OUT OF THE EAST. 39 

Out of the east the countless train of stars 
Follows the sun into the western bars, 
And slowly disappearing, melts away 
Amid the full effulgence of the day. 
The wheeling squadrons seem to proudly roam 
Beneath grim night's o'erarching, sable dome; 
While far along the northern flank on high 
Auroral banners wave athwart the sky. 



Out of the east the wise men came to view 
The infant Saviour, whose bright star they knew, 
And followed till the guiding beams at rest 
Reposed upon the cradle of the blest ; 
When all the glorious stars adoring praised, 
And with sweet music heavenly anthems raised ; 
While lo ! the wise men, bowed in worship, cry, 
"Hail! to the mighty Lord of earth and sky." 



Out of the east the fierce barbaric hordes. 
With uncouth armor and unwieldy swords, 
Swept o'er the earth like a resistless wave, 
Crushing the nations that they came to save. 



40 OUT OF THE EAST. 

Into the west where proud Atlantic pours 
Its wrathful billows on the trembling shores, 
They passed, usurping all the helpless land 
From Persia's Gulf to Baltic's frozen strand. 

Out of the east a little pilgrim band 
Came in the Mayflower to a happier land ; 
Came from oppression to be ever free, 
Nor feared the dangers of a wintry sea: 
Into the west they came and freedom found, 
And at their sturdy axes' ringing sound 
Primeval forests fell beneath the blows, 
And cot and hamlet magic-like arose. 

Out of the east the current onward rolled 
Until it reached the land of wine and gold : 
Along the swelling streams and western plains 
New cities rose bedecked with lofty fanes. 
Into the west, advancing sure but slow. 
The mighty civilizing armies go — 
The conquerors by the plough and not the sword. 
Who make the west the garden of the Lord. 



A VISIT TO HADES. 



41 



A VISIT TO HADES. 

A S dozing I sat in my chair by the fire, 
^ The flames, in forked jets, leaping higher and 
higher 
In garrulous converse, while chill blew the blast, 
I found myself sinking to slumber at last — 
When lo ! from the blaze that went hopping about, 
A red devil came, with a whoop and a shout. 
And, grinning, addressed me with such an odd leer, 
I could not help laughing in spite of my fear. 

'^ O ho ! my fine fellow, at you I am winking — 

I '11 drink to your health, if you please, without 

shrinking. 
And then, as you seem quite disposed to be civil, 
I '11 show you to Hades, the realm of the devil." 
Thus speaking, he emptied my glass with a jerk. 
And said: '^Now, my boy, we are ready for work." 

In less than a wink 

I felt myself sink. 



42 A VISIT TO HADES. 

Sink out of the atmosphere into the earth, 

And heard the red devil's uproarious mirth; 

And when my affright and my awful surprise 

Permitted me slowly to open my eyes, 

I found myself seated in Charon's old boat. 

That seemed on a lake of dark fluid to float : 

Around me the sounds of laborious toil. 

Of dire confusion and endless turmoil, 

In echoes re-echoed, unceasingly rung 

From the walls of the cave with stalactites o'erhung. 

My chaperon laughed with a hearty delight 

To see me astonished at such a grand sight. 

And said: ''You observe, it 's a pretty fine place, 

Tho' somewhat too hot for a warm-blooded race : 

We always employ this Cyclopean force. 

Who hammer and scream till they make themselves 

hoarse ; 
And yonder you see the result of their toil ; 
That black bank is coal, and this lake is coal oil : 

Now, all the old sinners 

And evil beginners 

Who worry the world 

To this place are hurled 



A VISIT TO HADES. 43 

When they, out of breath, 

Surrender to Death. 
We seize each arrival and transform his soul 
Into oil, anthracite and bituminous coal; 
While good beings' souls are (at least I am told) 
Transformed into nuggets of silver and gold. 
This oil that we make, your companions of earth 
Discovered to be of some value and worth; 
And likewise the coal is exhumed from the mine, 
And now takes the place of the hemlock and pine, 
And burns in the homes of the rich and the poor, 
The palace, the mansion, or cot on the moor. 
There is a large class of your friends and relations, 
Of every gradation from high to low stations. 
Who '11 argue until you are black in the face, 
That Hades is quite a mythological place — 
That those who are guilty of crime or of strife 
Receive all their punishment during this life : 
You see how absurd is this singular notion' ' — 
Just here a confused and exciting commotion 
Cut short his harangue ; then I heard a fierce shout. 
And saw thro' the smoke the red fiends run about — 
Then I felt myself seized, swiftly hurried along. 



44 AMORE NON ETERNO. 

Through a smeared-visaged, yelling, and turbulent 

throng, 
Until a cool breeze fanned my feverish face, 
And I found myself out of that horrible place ; 
When, lo 1 I was told that a coal from my grate 
Had like to have ended my rhymes and my fate. 



AMORE NON ETERNO. 

I. 

J-^IMPLED hands, 
^^^ Glowing cheeks, 
Sparkling eyes, 

Roguish mouth. 

Playful mirth, 

Rippling laughter ; 
All that charms 
Girlhood's days 
You comprise — 

Dreary years. 

Those that will 

Follow after. 



AMORE NON ETERNO. 45 

II. 

Nestle close ! 
Round my neck 
Twine your arms ! 

Wind your hands 

Through my hair ! 

Kiss me sweetly ! 
Let the cords 
Love has wrought 
Bind your charms — 

(Time 's a thief 

None can catch — 

He runs fleetly.) 

III. 

Poets sing, 
(But their songs 
Oft deceive,) 

And from far 

Mountain heights. 

Bright, supernal. 
Offer joys. 
If we would 
But believe. 



46 AMORE NON ETKRNO. 

(As in their 
Constant song,) 
''Love 's eternal." 

IV. 

False the songs ! 

False the lips 

Thus to sing ! 

Well I know, 
Winter's skies 
Aye are bleaker. 

Youth is warm — 

Age is cold — 

Love takes wing — 
Cords that bind 
Us in youth 
Age makes weaker. 

V. 

Soon will come 
Younger hearts, 
Full of fire- 
Brighter then 
All your charms 
Will be growing. 



EUREKA, 

After love, 
Born anew, 
Lights the pyre. 
You will watch 
The old love's 
Ashes glowing. 



47 



EUREKA. 

'^ I ^WO gods with Saturn's rings one day 

^ The game of quoits began to play; 
And these two ancient godly rakes 
Set up earth's poles as hubs or stakes. 
And drove them deep through icy snows — 
But how, no human being knows. 
Though many a one his reason taxes — 
'Tis my belief they used earth's "axis." 



48 EUREKA. 

At first the game was somewhat slow — 
Before they got warmed up, you know — 
No doubt 'twas owing to the cold, 
For those extremes are so, we 're told ; 
But, afterwards, excitement came 
To start the blood and warm the frame : 
Fierce animation lit their eyes 
And flashed athwart the polar skies : 
The lambent flame made wider leaps 
As colder grew those frozen steeps; 
And this is what, on chill, clear nights. 
We oft hear styled the "Northern Lights' 
Or as we gaze with awe, appalled. 
The "Aurora Borealis" called. 

And still the game they fiercely play, 
Year in, year out, day after day; 
From north to south the circles sweep, 
From south to north in motion keep, 
Swifter and swifter, till they flash 
A trail of light as on they dash ; 
And this is what the present day 
Calls "nebulee" or "milky way." 
And when, in crashing conflict, meet 



EUREKA. 4Q 

These whirling circles, fierce and fleet, 
The impact further progress bars. 
And hurls afar a shower of stars 
That scatter down the heavenly track. 
And streak with light night's curtain black, 
Each forming, you may guess before, 
A beautiful bright ''meteor." 

The Universe took sides, of course. 
And shouted for their god till hoarse : 
This noisy din of hopes and fears 
Is styled the "music of the spheres." 
The ''Pleiades," those sisters seven. 
Must take a peep of earth from heaven: 
'Tis sad to tell the fate of one 
Who, while she gazed upon the fun 
A ring came whirling swiftly by. 
And popping in, popped out her eye. 

Once a dispute grew rather hot 
If one a ringer had or not ; 
They to the umpire then appealed, 
And he examined well the field : 
" It is a polar ! see !" he cried, 

E 



50 



EUREKA. 

A wild wind wafted it (then died) 
Unto some scientific brain \ 
The matter seems so very plain — 
'Twas this gave rise, 'twixt you and me, 
To what is called the *^ Polar Sea." 

This constant pounding, long indulged. 

Has the equator rather bulged ; 

Or, in the words of some good souls, 

''The world is flattened at the poles." 

You need not put implicit faith 

In what this little story saith ; 

But, 'tis as sensible, and true 

As explanations, not a few, 

By theorists now dead and gone, 

Of many a phenomenon. 






EPIGRAM. 



5^ 



EPIGRAM. 

A PEBBLE cast in Ocean's farthest deep 
^ Impels the wave to its re.notest shore ; 
The widening circles, with concentric sweep, 
Break on the strand and mingle in the roar. 

So words that drop from lips or wise or dull, 
In every language and in every clime 

Roll on their waves, with sound or import full, 
Until they break upon the shores of time. 




5 2 THE VISION OF BERTHOLD. 



THE VISION OF BERTHOLD. 

/^^VER the ages when knowledge had perished 
^-^ deepen the shadows ; 
Mind fled, shrouded in gloom ; dark superstition 
held sway ; 
Deserts resounded with moanings and wailings of 
maniac zealots ; 
Forests in leafy embrace sheltered the wild de- 
votee. 



Learning, scourged by the lash of/ the cruel and 
ruthless destroyer. 
Skulked into cavernous depths, shunning the glare 
of the day. 
Hiding in grim cells, guarded by recreant monkish 
deceivers. 
Who, to their priest-craft false, stole, with her, 
trances of joy. 



THE VISION OF BERTHOLD. 53 

There, in the glimmering loneliness, bent over books 
in Arabic, 
Berthold, Monk of Mayence, studied the page of 
the past, 
Drew inspiration from sources abhorred — interdicted 
by bigots — 
Knowing the awful decree, if but aware of his 
crime. 



Crime ! for it then was a crime to be learned in the 
lore of the Arabs — 
Knowledge of aught beside Aves and prayers for 
the soul 
Doomed the possessor to death by the fagot, the rack, 
or the dungeon — 
Ignorance, Rapine, and Lust ruled by the mur- 
derer's brand. 

Secretly, Berthold sought to discover that subtlest 
powder, 
Known to the scienceful East, whose vast power 
should shake 



54 THE VISION OF BERTHOLD. 

Kings from their greatness, Popes from their high 
thrones, wrongfully wrested, 
Sunder the shackles that bound Reason in slavery's 
chains. 



Precious to him were the vesper-bells, sounding thro' 
darkening cloisters— 
Eagerly spent he the hours searching the wisdom 
of eld. 
While to their Bacchic and amorous pleasures others 
were turning — 
Night hides virtue and shame — Learning and Lust 
are secure. 



Moments sped as he delved deep down in his alche- 
mic studies ; 
Astrolabes, quadrants, and arcs aided the science 
of night; 
Circles and strange calculations adorned walls, tables 
and ceiling; 
Crucibles fretted and fumed — grimy and weird was 
the scene. 



THE VISION OF BERTIIOLD. 55 

Lambently over the gray walls played the bright 
flame of the furnace, 
While o'er his mortar he bowed, wearily waiting 
for light : 
Suddenly, out flashed the crystals used by the monk 
in his gropings, 
Loud through the corridors dark echoes reverber- 
ant rung. 

Lo ! as he gazed through the circling smoke-wreaths 
trembled a vision. 
Strange in its shadowy forms, outlined against the 
bleak stone ; 
There, through the far-vista' d future, he saw, like a 
glorious pageant. 
Changes that startled the world — order from chaos 
evolved. 

Papal authority reeled as its death-doom distantly 
sounded ; 
Turreted castles of woe crumbled and mouldered 
to dust ; 



56 THE VISION OF BERTHOLD. 

Knights in their armor, spearmen and pages writhed 
in the death-throes ; 
Chains fell clanking to earth, freeing the innocent 
limbs. 



Crouching, like ominous, bloodthirsty wolves at a 
horrible banquet, 
Ignorance, Poverty, Crime trembled, awaiting their 
fate; 
Those who had long borne brands of enslavement 
gloried in freedom ; 
Squalor and Filth fled away, purged in the flame 
and the smoke. 

Fortresses hidden in dense woods, haunted by ghosts 
of retainers. 
Empty and peopleless loomed — hushed was the 
wassailers' rout; 
Green fields smiled in the sunlight — gone were the 
forest-trees sombre. 
Revelling under their vines, happily cottagers 
sung. 



MY LOSS. 57 

Peacefully nestling under the walls of the convents 
deserted, 
School-roof and church-spire peered — Learning 
had naught now to fear : 
Lifted on high, in the bright glowing distance floated 
a nimbus 
Bearing a city of light— Mind sat enthroned as its 

kiner. 



MY LOSS. 



T N my garden grew a flower, 
^ Fragrant, fresh, and fair — 
Grew and blossomed near a bower 
Full of treasures rare. 

Oft I watched each tiny petal 

Its rich hues unfold, 
So much fairer than the nettle 

Out upon the wold. 



58 



MY L OSS. 

But — how sad I feel to tell it — 

I my flower have lost ! 
Oh, how wrong it was to kill it ! 

Cruel, cruel frost ! 

Could you not the weed have taken 
From the barren plain? 

Or would it have left forsaken 
Friends to weep in vain? 

Do some fond ones love and cherish 
That poor thistle rude? 

Would they weep if 'twere to perish 
Yonder by the wood? 

Surely it has never lover 

That could weep as I 
O'er the envious clods that cover 

Flower too pure to die ! 

Ah! am I the nettle wronging? 

Let my soul then tell, 
Tell its agony of longing 

When it wept farewell. 



OUT OF THE NEST. 59 



OUT OF THE NEST. 

DEAR brother ! thou art far away— 
I bade thee go, nor shed a tear 
The while remained in mine thy parting hand : 
I laughed as if my heart was gay, 

And, joking, mocked thy youthful sphere. 
And pictured to thee all thy pleasures grand. 

The well- remembered time when I 
First entered in the wrangling strife 
For bread, comes back in this dim twilight gray- 
I felt it when we said ''Good-bye" — 
Thou to begin an untried life, 
And I to plod along my well-worn way. 

'Twas noble thus for thee to go 
And brave the toil that man, 
With strength and will above thy youthful years. 



6o our OF THE NEST. 

Oft shrinks from. But thou well didst know 
We all must do the best we can 
In this bleak world of sorrow, toil, and fears. 

Now I indulge my grief, and weep 

Because I miss thee ; for I feel 

A depth of gloom within my inmost soul. 

At night a yearning seems to creep 

Into my heart, and then I steal 

Away and rnuse, while drearily the hours roll. 

Thy pranks, mischievous, sorely tried 
My patience and my love at times; 
But now 'twould be a joy to have thee tease 
Away the saddened hours. I 've sighed 
To hear again thy piquant rhymes — 
Thy caustic satire could not fail to please. 

I sit and wonder if old Time 

Will change thy smooth and boyish face, 
And bring thee back to me a bearded man, 
Exalted with thy manly prime. 
Full of new dignity and grace — 
And then, again, I think he never can. 



FOR THE LOPE OF HIM. 6i 

But let me touch a livelier strain 
Before aside my jangled harp 
I lay — God speed thee \ and may Fortune smile 
Her golden smile. May not a stain 
Of dust light on thy pinions wide 
To weigh thee down, or from thy flight beguile. 



FOR THE LOVE OF HIM. 

IV /r ORN rose resplendent from the purpling wave, 
^ ^ And earth rejoiced to see the smiling day; 
Each field and flower its sweetest incense gave, 

Where lonely loomed a convent's turrets gray. 

Within its cloisters dwelt a prisoned fay 
Who sighed for love; for oft, at matin chime, 

A young knight came to worship and to pray: 
To her he prayed — may Heaven forgive his crime — 
That she with him would fly unto some far-off clime. 

F 



62 ^'OR THE LOVE OF HIM. 

The maid, in doubt, still feared to stay or go; 

Knew not or love or duty's path to tread : 
But, clasping close her form, love whispered low 

His tender fancies, soothed her weary head 

With kisses soft and warm, till sorrow fled, 
And broken sighs, sweet agonies of love, 

The silent moments startled as they sped ; 
And thus he wooed as gently as the dove 
That swayed and cooed upon the leafy branch above. 

'' Come ! while the sun o'er eastern slopes afar 
The hill-top gilds and flushes all the dale 

With glory flashed from his triumphal car ! 

Come ! while the dewdrop glistens in the vale. 
And down the western arch the star grows pale ! 

Come ! while the hymn of morn's awaking throng 
Floats upward on each gentle, wayward gale. 

And swells, in one grand harmony of song, 

Till tuneful echoes all the symphonies prolong. 

''Come! for the murmuring stream, through arching 
groves. 
In licjuid accents, soft and sweet and low, 



FOR THE LOVE OF HIM. 63 

The same old story tells of its fond loves ; 
The wild rose listens to the wavelet's flow 
Until its blushes seem to come and go, 

As on the cheek of purity, when first 

Love paints its damask with the crimson glow, 

When first the buds by Eros watched and nursed 

Into the full and tender passion-flower burst. 

''Come! where the restless ocean rolls its wave 

In mighty grandeur to the changing shore, 
Then curling bows, the glistening beach to lave ! 

Come hear the music of the surges' roar. 

As, with unceasing song, the waters pour 
Their upheaved treasure on the snowy strand, 

So would I offer thee the richest store 
Of rare and beauteous gems from every land 
Where spicy fragrance floats on eastern zephyrs 
bland. 

''Come! then, my loved one! linger not so long! 

All nature teaches love, though bigot priest. 
With fierce anathemas pronounce it wrong, 

And frown upon the happy marriage feast. 

Come! for my boat points to the glowing East; 



64 FOR THE L VE OF HIM. 

There brighter banks of dew-bathed flowers lie ! 

Come, ere the early matin chimes have ceased ; 
Forever leave thy prison, where the sigh 
Of wailing wind moans round its vine-clad towers 
high." 

*' Go ! tempt me not !" her trembling voice replied — 
Yet moistening eye and yearning heart said stay ; 

But ere the plaintive notes in distance died 

The light boat, bounding on the widening bay, 
Had borne the clinging beauty far away — 

Far from oppressive- si>perstitions grim. 

From monks who mock their Maker when they pray, 

Until the gray old convent walls loomed dim — 

Forsaken and forever for the love of him. 



f^S^ 



THE DEATH OF CHIVALRY. 



65 



THE DEATH OF CHIVALRY.* 

A LAS ! the times of chivalry are o'er! 
^ Gay tournaments and knightly sports no more 
Will charm these poor degenerated days, 
Nor wake, with clang of shields, the martial praise 
Of valorous knights, who willingly would die 
For one approving glance from beauty's eye. 



Ah ! woe is me ! no more the polished lance 
May, in the glowing sunbeams, brightly glance — 



"^ No broad line divides the age of chivalry from later civili- 
zation. By personifying the genius of chivalry in an old and 
querulous knight, we can readily imagine such a one lamenting 
the decay of what appeared to him a glorious institution; until 
overcome by age and passion he ceased to exist. 



66 THr. DEATH OF CHIVALRY. 

No more will flaunt the bannerets on high 
Where dark, lone forests hide the smiling sky — 
No more will jousting spearmen try their strength 
In headlong tilt with lance of ponderous length — 
No more, in long extended lines will stand 
The waving plumed and sternly sturdy band 
To note who takes the challenge-gauntlet, thrown 
To test the conflict with the sword alone — 
No more the steed, caparisoned with gold, 
May snuff the air with nostrils wide and bold. 
And, in the fiery charge, with heedless dash 
Burst on the kneeling ranks with thundering crash. 



Ah ! then the fearless knight could coldly stare 
On death's unfeared but gleaming weapons bare, 
And parry thrust for thrust on open field, 
Or turn the shivered lance from gl it' ring shield ! 
But now, when whistling through the shrieking air 
These modern missiles bone and sinew tear — 
Unseen, unfelt, until the gaping wound 
Spills out the life-blood on the thirsting ground. 
From trembling hands is thrown the trusty spear 
That only clogs the flight of flying fear. 



THE DEA TH OE CHI T \4 L R Y. 6 7 

My crested helmet of bright, iMirnished steel ; 
My corslet, breastplate, sword, and rowelled heel. 
Thick with the dust of uselessness, and dim, 
Stand rusting in yon shadowy corner grim. 
The gaping visor's sightless sockets leer, 
And mock me as effeminate with fear. 
I know my blood, with age, is somewhat thin. 
My ears are dull to earth's eternal din. 
My hair comes straggling o'er my weary head, 
My limbs are weak, my nerves unstrung and dead ; 
And yet my spirit is as brave and strong 
As when I stood the knightliest of the throng. 

Ho ! bring my goblet fresh from oif its shrine ! 
I '11 drink the life-blood of the clustered vine. 
And revel in the bacchanalian flood. 
Until it warms to life my freeziiig blood. 
Nerves up my trembling arm, my feeble form. 
Renews my sight, and makes my courage warm ! 
And, varlet ! bring me forth my armor thick ! 
Then rivet fast each plate, now heed thee, quick ! 

But stay ! Is that the sound of modern arms. 
With flame and smoke and shriek — dread Death's 
alarms? 



68 THE DEATH OF CHIVALRY. 

Why no ! 'tis but the wailing of the wind 
Through forest by-ways, where it seeks to find 
Some vine-strung harp, on which to play the brave. 
Sad funeral march of nature to the grave. 

Bring forth my horse, with eye of fire lit — 
Ha ! ha ! I hear him stamp and champ his bit, 
And paw the turf and neigh his welcome proud, 
Then snuff the air and scan the battle-cloud ! 
Come ! help me mount, for I must ride to-day, 
Ride hard and far, from dawn to twilight gray : 
For I have sworn by this long trusted brand. 
Sworn by my honor, and this true right hand — 
Yea! sworn by all the virtues of the good. 
No more to taste of wine or luscious food, 
Until this blade is sheathed, unto the hilt. 
Within the breast of cowardice and guilt. 

Mad ! do ye call me if I fain would slay 
That wretch who makes ye what ye are to-day ! 
Who crushes chivalry, and makes the name 
Of armored knight the jest of every game? 
Nay ! if I take not that base villain's blood, 
I '11 bathe myself and steed in Lethe's flood! 



THE DEA TH OE CHIVALR Y. 69 

I tell ye ! were it not for that strange power 
Of subtle powder, that can shake yon tower, 
And hurl it crashing to the trembling dust. 
As trees are crushed by tornare's whirling gust, 
None would have cause to shed the sad'ning tear 
O'er dying chivalry's most glorious bier. 



Where now are all my trusty, fearless men. 
Whose clanking sabres trailed 'long yonder glen. 
Whose honest hearts o'erbrimmed with joyous mirth 
Around my wassail-bowl and roaring hearth ; 
Whose laugh and song re-echoed through each hall ; 
Whose arms were ready at my slightest call? 
They all are gone — to me alone is given 
A high commission from avenging Heaven — 
To-day, when crows on easy-flapping wing, 
Rise o'er the western horizon's bright ring. 
Far from these old, baronial, castle walls. 
From these time-honored, armor-garnished halls, 
I '11 draw the rein where ocean waters surge 

Through rocky caverns, dark, unknown, and deep. 
And play their wild, weird, melancholy dirge 

Where briny monsters horrid vigils keep. 



70 THE DEATH OF CHIVALRY. 

There, from the toothless crone, whose darksome cave, 
Noisome and dank, o'erlooks the treacherous wave, 
I '11 learn the secret of her sorceress tongue. 
That she from nature by her art hath wrung ! 
And then, this hydra-death my arm will crush 
And send new life with red, resistless gush 
Through all the palsied limbs of knights or lords 
Whose hearts seem now as rusted as their swords. 



Even as he spoke, the lightning of his eye 
Flashed — vanished like a meteor from the sky — 
His lifted arm dropped nerveless by his side — 
His brow unbent — his lips relaxed their pride — 
Sunk slowly on his breast his hoary head — 
And chivalry was now forever dead. 




THE WRECK. 71 



THE WRECK. 

I. 

ON a lonely rock-bound shore, 
Where gusty sea-birds sail, 
Where the foam-capped breakers roar 

When roused by ocean's gale, 
Lay deep in the shifting sand 

The wreck of a noble barque ; 

And the fragments strewed the strand. 

The storm-king's rage to mark. 

II. 

On the deck, where strong and brave. 

The stern, old captain stood, 
Sat a sea-gull, calm and grave, 

Midst seaweed covered wood : 
The shell-fish fringed the sides 

Of the hull, where crabs found rest, 
Where the turtle, with slow strides. 

Looked for its food or nest. 



72 



rilE WRECK. 

III. 
There I saw some bleaching bones, 

A lock or two of hair; 
And it seemed I could hear the groans 

Borne on the stormy air ; 
How the creaking timbers sprung 

When hurled upon the rocks; 
How despairing ones had clung 

Amid the tempest's shocks. 

iv; 

Midst a clump of tangled weed 

I found a ring of gold ; 
And the name, I scarce could read, 

Was graved in days of old ; 
'Twas a sweet and simple one — 

''To Alice" — and I pressed 
A kiss for the maiden gone, 

Then clasped it to my breast. 

V. 

I thought of the saddened home, 
Whose dear one came no more. 

For, enshrouded in sea-foaip, 
She perished on that shore. 



THE WRECK. 

Oh ! the long and weary days, 
The nights so drear and wild, 

Of the mother who still prays 
That she may clasp her child. 

VI. 

For there on that rock -bound shore. 

Where gusty sea-birds sail \ 
Where the foam-capped breakers roar 

When roused by ocean's gale, 
Lies deep in the shifting sand 

The wreck of that noble barque. 
And the fragments strew the strand. 

The storm-king's rage to mark. 



73 




74 LINES TO A CHILD ON HER BIRTHDAY. 



LINES TO A CHILD ON HER 
BIRTHDAY. 

I "'OUR budding springs have softly blown, 
^ With lightsome touch, thy fluttering curls, 
And painted on thy cheeks of down 
The rose-tint of the ocean pearls. 

Thy breast, unlearned in worldly schemes. 
With gentle measure sinks and swells, 

Unruffled as the limpid streams 
That mirror the sweet lily-bells. 

No rude and piercing tempest-wind. 
Nor care nor sorrow thou hast known ; 

But gentle hands and accents kind 

Have round thee their protection thrown. 

Thus may thy life, a flowery spring, 
Float on, perfumed and beautified, 

Till summer's ripening harvests bring 
A wealth of pleasure yet untried. 



FALLEN ASLEEP. 75 

And when the autumn's chilly breeze 
Reminds thee Death will soon destroy, 

Then may no pain or fell disease 
Unnerve thy form or mar thy joy. 

Though winter, with his silver wand, 
May tinge thy locks with snowy frost, 

Yet may thy friends, with hearts still fond, 
Support thee till the vale is crossed. 



FALLEN ASLEEP. 

HUSH ! lightly tread ! the weary eyes now close ; 
The little hands unclasp the cherished toy ; 
And in that blest elysium of repose 

Sleeps peacefully the darling household joy. 

No grief or wearing care in furrows deep 
Has set its mark upon that fair young brow; 

In peace it slumbers with a dreamless sleep. 
As only childhood's innocence knows how. 



y 6 FALL EN A SL EEP. 

Remembered are its childish woes no more ; 

The toys that pleased its happy waking hours 
Lie scattered in confusion on the floor, 

While sleep restores its young and budding powers. 

Years hurry by upon their rapid wings — 

Sleep comes, but not as in the vanished past — 

Woe, want, or misery a shadow flings, 
That sits a horrid incubus at last. 

Again, tread lightly ! close the sunken eye ! 

Asleep? Yes, in death's cold and rigid guise; 
Toys that have pleased the riper years now lie 

For other hands to fondle, hearts to prize. 




THE BRIDAL TOAST. 77 



THE BRIDAL TOAST. 

/^^OME, fill up your goblets with generous wine, 
^^-^ And drink to the health of the bride ! 
May she, like the vine 
Whose fond tendrils twine 
O'er the hills 'neath Italia's sun, 
Cling closer, though whirlwinds should rush to divide 
The hearts that have sworn to be one. 

O'er India's seas may the swift breezes blow 
Rich argosies — silk and perfume ! 
May the Orient flow 
To the answering glow 
Of the purple and golden west; 
The soft southern valleys burst forth into bloom. 
The northern hills smile on the blest. 



78 LONGINGS. 



LONGINGS. 

"|\ /r Y soul is sad, for I have tasted joy — • 

The joy of fame. Ere I could quaff 
The generous nectar — immortality — 

The cup was rudely dashed aside. 
My harp, neglected like a baby's toy. 

Lies all unstrung — I cannot laugh 
As once, for life is now reality. 

And I must struggle with its tide. 

My muse is like some coy and bashful maid, 

Whose lover's eager passion glows 
With torrid heat, lighting to flame his eyes, 

Till she, abashed before his gaze, 
Veils her soft charms, half smiling, half afraid, 

And scarce believes the joy she knows; 
For, longing to embrace him, still she flies. 

Bewildered by love's tangled maze. 



FATHOMING BRAINS. 79 

Thus, while perchance too eagerly I love- 
Made coy by my intense desire, 

She turns from me her blushing face away, 
And leaves me desolate and lone. 

Oh ! come again, sweet maiden from above. 
And teach me how to touch the lyre 

That erst I played to cheer the saddened day 
And lull my soul with its sweet tone. 



FATHOMING BRAINS. 

T ONCE took a fancy to fathom the brains 

^ Of those I might meet on life's highways and 

lanes : 
So I bought a good lead-line, of monstrous length, 
And one that was noted for toughness and strength. 
I resolved that, like David of old, I would sing, 
And chronicle all the great deeds of my sling. 



8o FATHOMING BRAINS. 

Well ! the first one I met was a man with a hod, 
Imported, no doubt, from the '^Emerald sod." 
I threw in my line, and prepared to find out 
The depth of the brains that he carried about : 
When lo! don't distrust it! the lead, at full stop, 
Brought up, with a thump, very near to the top. 

The next, a remarkably dressy young man. 
Whose kids kept his hands from pollution and tan : 
And, truly! the lead, with a sudden rebound. 
Bounced out of his cranium on to the ground. 
I was not surprised, for I scarcely expected 
To find it much better in one so affected. 

Then I came to a poet, with manners much sweeter ; 
Yet I thought I could fathom his brains in short metre, 
And threw in the '' deep-sea" and paid out the twine, 
And found that it took quite a volume of line. 
No wonder, for surely it should be no worse. 
When the man had completed such volumes of verse. 

The fourth was a doctor, as grave as the dead — 
I wondered what wisdom was stored in his head : 
But, sad to relate of this curer of ills. 
With his lotions, and potions, and plasters, and pills, 



FATHOMING BRAINS. 8 1 

His brains ill comporting with such knowing looks, 
Were deceiving as pools in dark, shadowy nooks. 

The fifth, a philosopher plodding along, 

And arguing right out of everything wrong: 

I found that the brains 'neath his forehead so sallow 

Were frequently muddy, and often quite shallow — 

That though he could tell that red ink was not blood, 

His whys and his wherefores were just clear as mud. 

A minister, then, with his cap and his gown, 
Came jogging along on his way to the town. 
I awaited my chance, then threw in the lead, 
To find that, in this good, old reverend's head, 
The doctrinal rocks, with fissure and seam. 
And sectarian sand-bars, had choked up the stream. 

I next met a farmer all roughened by toil. 

Whose hands were as brown as the freshly ploughed 

soil — 
Whose voice was as rough as the low of his kine, 
And his garments were certainly not very fine ; 
But the depth of his brains could by no means compare 
With his surface appearance and countryfied air. 



82 FATHOMING BRAINS. 

His wife was a good, honest, quiet old soul, 
Who looked just as deep as a soup-plate or bowl : 
Yet I heaved out my lead — it went in with a splash, 
Sank deeper and deeper — and, quick as a flash, 
I made up my mind that, appearance inferior 
Is no kind of gauge to the hidden interior. 

A statesman, soon after, my notice engaged — 
A maker of laws for the young and the aged — 
But I found that his brain was so muddled by drink 
That the lead I heaved over I could not make sink ; 
And this introduced a long train of sad thought 
About the amount of distress rum had wrought. 

I fathomed the wealthy, and oft found that gold 
Took the place of the brains that for pelf they had 

sold; 
That though they were styled the polite and refined. 
They quite often lacked in refinement of mind. 
I fathomed the poor in a similar manner. 
And often found reason 'neath poverty's banner. 

I found that great statesmen and merchants of rank 
Oft into oblivion hopelessly sank 



FATHOMING BRAINS. %t^ 

When compared with their neighbors of meaner de- 
gree— 
The farmer, the miller, the blacksmith — all three. 
And therefore I came to conclusions that follow: 
That the most solid looking are often most hollow — 

That those who appear to have least depth of mind 
We often the best informed scholars may find — 
That roughness may, like the unpolished sea-shell, 
Hide beauteous gems in its tortuous cell — 
And that those who are highest in Church or in State 
Are not of necessity always the great. 




84 NATURE'S BRIDE. 



NATURE'S BRIDE. 

A MAIDEN came, at break of day, 
-^ ■*- As bright and rosy as the dawn, 
And pkicked the flowerets by the way 
That led across a dewy lawn. 

Then, sittmg by a stream, she wrought 
A wreath of beauty, fresh and fair, 

As lovely as an angel's thought. 
As fragrant as the breath of prayer. 

The long-lashed eyelids drooped above 
Her tender, soul-lit eyes of blue; 

She seemed a being made for love — 
So soft, so gentle, and so true. 

Her glowing bosom, half revealed, 
With gentle undulations moved 

The snowy garments that concealed 
Such charms as Eros would have loved. 



JVA TURK • 5 BR IDE. 8 5 

The brooklet bathed her dimpled feet ; 

The amorous south-wmd kissed her check, 
And whispered tender fancies sweet, 

While blushes played at hide-and-seek. 

Across the stream her longing eye 

Oft wandered through the leafy wood ; 

While, scarce suppressed, the tell-tale sigh 
Told more of truth than language could. 

Her lover came — and lithely o'er 

The wave -worn stones he gained her side. 

And 'midst the flowers that gemmed the shore 
Close clasped, in warm embrace, his bride. 

No saintly priest, with enjpty show, 

Decreed the course their loves should run ; 

Their hearts had sworn it long ago. 
When each the other sought and won. 

But tell it not unto the world. 

Where greedy ears are opened wide, 

Lest scandal's poisoned lip be curled — 
'Twere better far they both had died. 

H 



S6 NOBODY WANTED IT. 

Yes! better far to lie unknown, 

Entombed on some secluded slope, 

Than breathe with every breath a groan, 
And bury with each sigh a hope. 



NOBODY WANTED IT. 

"A bright little baby, abjut a month old, was found on the 
door-step of a house in Street. It was taken to the alms- 
house. Nobody wanted it." — Daily Paper. 

IV TOBODY wanted it — poor little innocent — 

^ ^ Base, cruel parents, with cowardly hearts, 

Thus to desert it to charity's hands; 

Fearing to give it the care it demands. 

Go ! hide yourselves in the world's noisy marts; 

There seek to cover your crime with sin's arts. 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Mayhap of passions, too fierce for control, 
Brought here, unbidden, to struggle for bread ; 
No loving bosom to pillow its head ; 
No one to fly to, no one to console — 
Think of it, ye who h.ive feeling and soul ! 



NOBODY WANTED IT. 87 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Fatherless, motherless, friendless, alone; 
Cast on the shores of the cold, heartless earth — 
None to rejoice o'er the time of its birth — 
Cast here to suffer, to sigh, and to groan, 
Homeless — aye, houseless — uncared for, unknown ! 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Send to the almshouse its young, slender form. 
There to be nurtured by stern, chilly rule. 
Learn the hard lessons in poverty's school. 
Feel the sharp sting of adversity's storm 
Pierce through its spirit so tender and warm. 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Treat it not harshly — oh ! give it your love ; 
Nurse it and care for it — poor helpless child^ — 
Kindly caress it, with soft words and mild ; 
Shelter the dear little wandering dove; 
Guide it aright to the Father above. 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Think of its sorrows, ye gay, thoughtless tlirong, 



S8 NOBODY WANTED IT. 

When on the tide of the world it is thrown ; 
Ye who have loving hearts twined round your own; 
Ye who have longed for the prattle and song: 
Think of it, ye who are tempted to wrong ! 

Nobody wanted it — poor little innocent — 
Outcast and lonely, oh ! give it your love ! 
Sad is its fate on this chill, weary shore, 
Tossed by rude billows that tumble and roar; 
Shelter the dear little wandering dove; 
Guide it aright to the Father above. 




SJ VED. 



89 



SAVED. 

A LL day the sky had worn a lurid hue — 

The sun looked down, with bleared and garish 
rays, 
Upon the ocean. No wave disturbed its rest. — 
It lay like some malarious, stagnant pool. 
The turtle crawled far up the glistening beach — ■ 
All vegetation drooped. The sluggish wind 
Scarcely disturbed the tiniest branch or leaf — 
They all hung motionless. A stifling heat 
Oppressed the breathing throngs that filled the town. 
The birds were songless, and with folded wings 
Sat mutely down; or, with discordant scream, 
Flew by and vanished. 

Matrons, maids, and men, 
Dismayed, each on the other's pallid fiice 
Turned their enlarged eyes, with eager gaze. 
As if they questioned what this might portend. 

H* 



90 -S^ VED, 

But some pursued their pleasure or their toil, 
Nor cared to note how ghastly-hued the sky, 
Nor what strange stillness lulled the restless deep, 
Or, that the birds seemed frightened in their nests. 

But there was one who feared the worst, and felt, 
With throbbing heart, and strange, mysterious awe, 
That some great force of nature was at work. 
His soul foreboded ill. Irresolute 
He stood a moment, as in doubt, and then. 
With lover's haste (ever fearful is love). 
He urged his flight until, with panting breath, 
Beneath a grove of palms he drew the rein. 
A beauteous maiden, tripping thro' the grove. 
Came, with a smile of welcome on her lips; 
But when she saw the gaze of dread that hung 
Like a dark shadow on her lover's face, 
She clasped her hands in anguish; while her heart, 
With eager throbbings, sent the gushing blood 
To paint upon her cheek the fear it felt. 

''What think'st thou, darling?" hastily he spake- 
" Dost thou not fear some quick, convulsive throe? 
See how yon orange tree doth seem to droop; 



SAVED. 91 

And this bright-plumaged bird is sore distressed ! 
Come ! let us fly to some securer spot, 
Some firm-ribbed rock, whose granite walls may stand 
Though earth should tremble to its seething core!" 

The smile returned unto those pallid lips 
As, softly speaking, she replied, ''Nay! nay! 
This is but fear, that thy too bounteous love 
For me, and for my safety, has aroused : 
This strange appearance but betokens storms 
That now are marshalling their cloudy hosts. 
With which to wage fierce elemental war." 

' 'Aye ! true ! my fears for thee are quick to rise ; 
But I have, now, a dark, foreboding dread 
Of ill, that bids me urge thee still to fly. 
Hush ! hark ! do ye not hear that ominous sound, 
As of swift caisson wheels o'er yonder bridge? 
Aye ! there it is again ! Alea, haste ! 
God, is 't too late?" her lover cried : "See! see! 
The mighty ocean sucks its horrid way 
Far out from land, leaving its wretched hordes 
In agony upon the slimy bed ! 
Yet may we fly!" 



92 SAVED. 

He clasped the maiden close, 
And, mounting his impatient, frightened steed, 
That needed not the spur, they swiftly fled. 
His burden, lovely as the goddess born 
Of iris-colored sea foam, drooped her head 
Upon his heaving breast. 

With terror dumb. 
She clung to him, twining her soft arms round 
His stalwart form, in close embrace of fear. 
As speeds the nimble deer, the noble horse. 
With nostrils wide, sped onward — 

But the sea 
Now rose in one grand, overwhelming wave, 
And rolled its desolating waters back — 
Back o'er the slime and ooze, where former tides 
Had ebbed and flowed ; then up the shelving beach. 
And on, with stern, resistless power, until 
The wavelets lapped the crouching dust that lay 
Before the doorways of deserted homes ; 
Then higher ! higher ! till, in rage, it burst 
Through every barrier, and rushed along 
In wild, chaotic revel, swirling, tossing, 
Roaring, hissing, crushing, in its course, 



SA VED, ■ 93 

Palace and hovel, drowning shrieking forms 
Who vainly strove to fly — old age and youth, 
The stalwart man, the tender maid, the child 
Were swallowed up. 

He turned, alas ! to find 
The waters gaining. With a sinking heart, 
He urged to quicker pace his wearied steed — 
The mountain lay so near, and yet it seemed 
As though each step but lengthened the short space 
'Twixt death and safety. 

''Hark! again that sound 
Of rumbling wheels, but louder than before!" 
He spoke, and then a tremor shook the ground, 
So soft at first it scarcely stirred a leaf. 
But quickening into sudden throbs, it swayed 
The tall tree tops, and rocked the quivering walls. 
Until, in one grand diapason, burst, 
With fearful force, the mighty earthquake shock. 
Chasms opened wide their horrifying jaws, 
Engulphing hapless victims and their homes. 
So loud and terrible the horrid din 
Of tottering walls and madly surging waves, 
That the wild cry of human woe was lost 
Amid the mightier agony of earth. 



94 ^^ VED. 

The steep ascent lay near, aye, one leap more 
Would save them from a deep and dark abyss — 
*'Alea! look!" the lover cried, ''oh, look! 
We 're saved !" Then up the rugged mountain side 
They passed to safety. 

Bearing on his arm 
The beauteous form, whose loosened ringlets hung 
In rich disorder over neck and breast, 
He turned and gazed upon the chaos wild : 
Friends, family, fortune, home, all — all were gone — 
All gone except his well-beloved Alea — 
And, clasping closer to his aching heart 
The lovely being, only spared to him 
Of those he 'd prized, he sank exhausted down, 
Down on the hard, unsympathizing rock; 
His soul o'ercome with its great agony. 



A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE. 95 



A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE. 

ON SEEING THE REMOVAL OF SOME REMAINS FROM A 
CITY GRAVEYARD. 

PEACE ! ye insatiate sons of earth ! 
Why will ye ever disturb our bones, 
Scatter our soulless dust with mirth, 
Careless alike of the tears or groans 
Of those whose hearts have bled 
With sorrow for their dead? 

Can ye not hold your unfeeling hand? 
Leave us to sleep in the quiet tomb ; 
LuU'd, where the sweet-breathed airs have fanned 
Soft sighings, sad o'er our homes of gloom, 
Through waving, tangled bowers 
Of perfumed buds and flowers? 

Can ye not spare us this little ground, 

E'en though amid the proud homes of men, 
Placed where life's hurrying, ceaseless round 



g6 A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE. 

Rests with the eve, but at morn again 
Begins the steady tramp, 
Where lie our dwellings damp? 

Ye will but rear where our forms have lain 

Palace of marble or granite gray ; 
Why will ye then cause the living pain? 

Taking their loved Death has once swept away 
Still let the tear-dewed sod 
Soft whisper them of God ! 

Cease ye ! and let us forever rest ! 

Sacredly tread on the grass we trod ! 
Leave us this spot in its wild vines dressed ! 
Leave us to crumble beneath the sod, 
Where flowers, that kind hearts gave, 
Bloom over each silent grave ! 




THE SENTENCE. 97 



T 



THE SENTENCE. 

St, John viii. 1-12. 

HE balmy breath of morning floated down 
The Mount of Olives, whither Jesus went 
To muse upon His high and glorious task, 
And hold communion with his Father— God : 
He, turning from the shady olive-groves, 
Then sought the Temple, there to teach the word 
Of life to eager, doubting, wondering throngs, 
Who pressed upon Him, catching all His words. 
As would the traveller o'er Arabia's sands. 
The cool drops of spring-water, bubbling 'neath 
The leafy arch of some oasis green. 

Lo ! as He taught, came Scribes and Pharisees, 
Who diligently hoped to find some crime 
Of which they might accuse Him to their judge. 
And brought a woman, saying unto Hmi, 

I 



()8 THE SENTENCE. 

"Lo! she was taken in adultery — 

Yea, in the very act. Our law commands 

That those thus guilty should be stoned to death ; 

But what say ye should be her punishment?" 

And Jesus spake not, but stooped down to write 
Upon the ground, as though He heard them not 
But when they importuned Him, He arose, 
Saying, "He that is without sin among 
You, let him cast at her a stone," and then 
Again He stooped unto the ground and wrote. 

And when they heard Him, one by one they left 
The Temple, from the eldest to the youngest 
(For conscience had accused them all of guilt), 
Until there were none left excepting her, 
'Gainst whom the charge was brought, and Christ 
alone. 

He lifted up himself and said, ''Woman! 
Where are those thine accusers? Hath no man 
Condemned thee?" And she answered, "No man, 

Lord!" 
Then spake He unto her and said, "Neither 
Do I condemn tliee; go, and sin no more." 



SAY.yO'f. 99 



SAY NOT. 

Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were 
better than these ? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning 
this. — EccLESiASTES, vii, lo. 

OH ! say not thou, chivalric days 
Were better than these days of ours; 
And sing no more those sad'ning lays, 

That seem like drooping, faded flowers, 
Whose scentless petals, sere and brown. 
Loosed from their stems, float slowly down. 

Prate not of high-toned moral worth. 
Of honor's stout defenders proud. 
Of liberty round every hearth. 

Of virtue pure as snowy cloud: 
Then lewdness, slavery, vice, and crime 
Choked truth and virtue in their slime. 

An angry look or hasty word 

Oft kindled bright the torch of war; 



SAY NOT. 

And sword oft met with kinsman's sword, 

To wash in blood each insult sore: 
War was their life, their love, their trade, 
And rapine marched with each crusade. 

The revellings of those knights and lords. 

In lusty bacchanalian rout; 
The clang of shields, the clash of swords, 

The wild, inebriated shout 
Of blind-eyed passion, fierce and hot. 
But make me thankful they are not. 

Could I for plumed and armored train, 
For tournament, or gaudy show. 

See forged again the slaver's chain, 
And hear the people groan in woe ! 

See harsh oppression lordly ride, 

Mind crushed by superstitious pride ! 

Could I exchange the modern gleam 

Of truth and knowledge, might and power. 

Of railroad, telegraph, and steam. 
For some gray, lonely, feudal tower? 

Give modern virtue, honor, fame. 

For one poor, empty, titled name? 



SAY NOT. loi 

1 cannot think those castles grim, 

Whose bleak, bare walls and lofty domes 

Loom up at evening twilight dim, 
Are better than our modern homes ! 

Nor would I give their warmth and cheer 

For drawbridge, archway, moat, or spear. 

Then tell me not the knightly days 
Were better than these days of ours ; 

For progress sends her healthful rays 
To light improvement's glowing towers. 

The past lies dark as Egypt's night; 

The present gleams in floods of light. 






I02 NOT ALONE. 



NOT ALONE. 

T STOOD upon the broad, unbroken prairie, 
^ O'erarched by deep, ethereal bkie — 
Far o'er the plain a thin mist, light and airy, 
Formed strange, fantastic shapes of nymph and fairy. 

That circled round the distant view; 
And, though alone, I found in every flower 
Companionship to cheer each fleeting hour. 

I roamed the mighty woods, whose darksome arches 

Made sombre and eternal night ; 
Save where the fierce tornado in its marches 
Had felled the hemlocks, oaks, and pines, and larches, 

And made a pathway for the light; 
And yet, though far away from human voice, 
The trees seemed whispering to my soul ''rejoice !" 



NOT ALONE. 103 

I sat upon a rocky cliff o'erbending 

The ocean, whose white foaming surge 

Rushed madly thro' deep, cavernous inlets, rending 

The air with fierce-voiced echoes high ascending, 
Like some weird, melancholy dirge. 

And felt the mighty import of its tone, 

But was content, for I was not alone. 

I rode upon the undulating billows. 

When calm and peaceful, free from storm— 
And slept as though reposing on soft pillows. 
Lulled by the low, sad song of weeping willows 

Waving above my slumbering form. 
I was not lonely, for the mighty deep 
With tranquil murmurs sang my soul to sleep. 

I climbed the mountain, steep and snowy-crested; 

Below me floated misty clouds 
That hid the valleys. There I mused and rested, 
Where eagles on the dizzy crags were nested ; 
My busy thoughts, in thronging crowds, 
Oppressed me in that stillness grand and high- 
Yet I was not alone, for God was nigh. 



I04 



DIVIDED. 



DIVIDED. 

W /ITH lips that long for one fond kiss, 

^ And yet disdain to ask the boon — 

With dear remembrances of bliss, 

With eyes that weep for joys atune, 
I see my love, my cherished prize. 

The one my bosom aches to press, 
Pass by me with averted eyes 

That seem to heed not my distress. 

That seem to heed not ! can it be 

Those eyes, that quickly once discerned 
Each varying mood or fantasy. 

And all my joys or sorrows learned. 
Are careless if my heart-strings break ! 

Oh ! tell me not the love that shone 
In those bright depths, and from them spake 

In voiceless melody, has flown. 

Do not fond thoughts of happy hours 
Call up the joys that once we knew, 



DIVIDED. 

.When she was crowned with bridal flowers? 

When each to each swore to be true : 
Or, has she overthrown the shrine 

On which my image, only, stood? 
I worship still each shade and line 

Of her dear face, so pure and good. 

Why does my haughty spirit crush 

The rising words that bid me yield? 
Words that from burning lips outgush 

In dreams that, waking, would be sealed ! 
Oh ! could I hear again the tone 

Of her sweet voice in love's soft sighs. 
And see her ringlets backward thrown. 

And drink in rapture from her eyes ! 

It may not be ! we ne'er shall meet 

As once we met with love's young wiles. 
When time could never be too fleet 

While absent from each other's smiles. 
Yet not the ceaseless change of years, 

Not ocean's deeps between us rolled. 
Can bring surcease of woe and tears. 

The while my love is strange and cold. 



^05 



lo6 THE CRIME WAS NOT MJAE. 



THE CRIME WAS NOT MINE. 



I 



COULD not help it! 
Laugh as you may : 
'Twas the fault of the lattice, that clambering vines' 
Held intertwined, and 
Let a bright ray 
Of the morning shine in thro' this rift in the pines. 

What did I see? Sit 
Here by my side. — 
From the blaze in the east all the plains were aglow. — 
See you yon stream? Blood- 
Red was its tide, 
And this wheat-field was — Come, now, you're laugh- 
ing, I know. 

Mine you are, darling ! 

Have you not said 

So, in so many words? One can speak, if he tries ! 



THE CRIME WAS NOT AH NE. 



107 



Ah! you 're a sly elf! 
Here, rest your head 
On my shoulder — I never could speak for your eyes ! 

From yonder twig, swift 
Unto its nest, 
Winged a bird, and my eyes followed whither it flew. — 
I could not help it ! 
Then all the rest 
That I saw through the vine I must whisper to you. 
****** 

One white little foot, with its pink-tinted toes, 
Peeped slyly from under the sheltering spread. 

And then, like Aurora, a goddess arose, 

And flushed all the room with the glory she shed. 

Two small, dainty stockings, and two little shoes 
Soon hid the pink toes from my amorous view : 

A jewel-case yielded its store — will she choose 
The red coral, diamond, or amethyst blue? 

One soft hand entangled the gems in her hair. 

The other clasped loosely her half-revealed zone — 

(Do you wonder, my darling, that I lingered there?) 
Then back from her brow the bright tresses were 
thrown. 



io8 SO2VG FROM THE SERVIAN. 

(The heart that loved not must be colder than mine.) 
A rose, and a cluster of heliotrope sweet ; 

A bit of blue ribbon, a spray from the vine, 

A touch of the hand made her beauty complete. 

Ah! how could I help it? Her bodice embraced 
The form that I lovingly thought mine alone — 

Close clasped it as I clasp your delicate waist — 
Nay ! nay ! chide me not ! for the crime was your 
own. 



SONG FROM THE SERVIAN. 

T N a green meadow two fond lovers vowed- 
^ Plighting their faith to the sky; 
Thinking the secret, with meadow and cloud, 
Safe when no other was nigh. 

To the white flock did the meadow unfold 
What these two lovers had sworn ; 

They to their shepherd the fond story told, 
He to a wayfarer worn. 



SOXG FROM THE SERVIAN. 109 

Unto a mariner, free as the wind, 

Whispered the wayfarer old \ 
He to his barque freely opened his mind, 

She to the swift river cold. 

To the fond mother the cold river ran, 

Telling her all it had learned ; 
She to her daughter in sadness began 

Chiding until her cheeks burned. 

** Meadow so false," cried the sweet little maid, 

'' May you be ne'er again green ! 
White flock so meek, who poor me have betrayed, 

Perish by wolves gaunt and lean!" 



'< Shepherd, for telling the story again, 
Die by the Turk's bloody brand ! 

Wayfarer, wander no more among men — 
Palsied be each foot and hand!" 

^< Mariner, die as a mariner should. 
Drown when no helper is nigh ! 

Barque, may thy ribs be the fire-fiend's food 
Garrulous river, run dry!" 



no SONG FROM THE SERVIAN, 



SONG FROM THE SERVIAN. 

A MAIDEN, on the changing shore 
-^ ^ Of an unrestmg sea, 
Communed thus with the ocean's roar 
And its divinity : 

*'0 mighty spirit, dear and good ! 

Is aught beside so vast 
As yonder waste of surge and flood. 

Whose bright foam flitteth past? 

*'Is aught more boundless than the plain? 

More rapid than the steed? 
More sweet than dews from waxen fane ? 

More dear, in time of need, 

*'Than fond, unselfish brother's love?" — 

A voice from out the wave 
Replied in accents from above, 

And thus this answer gave ; 



SONG FROM THE SERVIAN. iii 

^'O silly, simple girl!" it said, 

''The plain must smaller be, 
As yon blue heaven overhead 

Is greater than the sea. 

''Thy glance is swifter than the steed; 

Honey has sweeter peer ; 
Than brother's love, in time of need, 

A lover's is more dear/'' 



SONG FROM THE SERVIAN. 

A GIRL at the foot of a mountain, 
With beauteous face and bright eye, 
Sat, poised on the brink of a fountain, 

And talked to her face with a sigh; 

"My face ! O my care ! O bright tresses ! 

If I, my fair face, could but know 
An old man should give the caresses, 

Upon the green mountain I 'd go— 



112 AFTER VACATION. 

''I 'd go and the wormwood I 'd gather, 
And press out the sap's bitter green, 

To wash thee so that the old father 
Might taste all thy bitterness keen. 

*'But if, my fair face, a young lover 

Should kiss from thy beauty its bloom, 

I 'd gather sweet roses and clover 

That, kissing, he 'd taste thy perfume." 



AFTER VACATION. 

A school-boy's soliloquy. 

1 ^ROM fields of green and mossy vales. 

From forests vast and mountains high. 
From laughing brooks and blooming dales, 
I homeward turn with longing sigh. 

I 'm weary of the reckless sport 
On grassy slope, in gloomy glen, 

And I am glad the time is short 
When I shall see my books again. 



AFTER VACATION. 

I long to see the old school walls, 
That now stand echoless and still, 

And wonder when the merry calls 
Will make the very rafters thrill. 

I '11 climb the fence, where many a name 
Is graved by careless schoolboy's knife, 

And see if all within 's the same 
As last I left it, full of life. 

The grass grows now where hurrying feet 
Have passed, with boyish footstep light : 

The dust lies thick on desk and seat. 
And all the rooms are dark as night. 

The spiders patiently have spread 
Their shroudy curtains in the nooks. 

And, undisturbed by human tread, 
The mice have feasted on the books. 

But soon the merry shouts will ring 
Through each familiar hall and room, 

And startled silence will take wing 
For more congenial haunts of gloom. 



1^3 



114 DESOLATfOX 



DESOLATION. 

T N a cheerless room, by a fireless hearth, 
^ An old man hugged his shrunken breast: 
His thin hair, blown as if in mirth. 

Tossed in the breath of the chill northwest 
That shook the frame of the crazy door. 
And drifted snow on the crumbling floor. 

The steps that led to an upper room 

Had, one by one, fed the meagre blaze ; 

The framework stood in the deepening gloom, 
A ghost of its shadowy, better days : 

The snowflakes blown through each wid'ning chink 

Built strange, quaint forms on the stairway brink. 

The shutters creaked on their hinges old, 

As if they felt the assault unkind, 
And shivered in the un pitying cold 

At each rude blast of the ruffian wind ; 
The aged roof of a bygone day 
$hook with the palsy of decay, 



DESOLATION. 115 

The old man swayed him to and fro, 

And, crooning, murmured this song of pain: 

''Let me see, to-day, eighty years ago. 

The blood, now thin in each shrivelled vein. 

First thrilled me as 'twill ne'er again — 

Yes ! eighty years have flown since then. 

'"Tis little I ken of my baby strife; 

The winter brought me, an infant warm ; 
The winter's cold has chilled my life; 

The winter's snows will cover my form: 
For many years I 've felt the chill 
That soon will lay me cold and still. 

''At seventy years ago — a boy — 

With young limbs strong, and free heart light, 
I roamed the fields and woods with joy, 

And swam the streams with youth's delight; 
I searched the hay-mows for the nest. 
And scorned the indolence of rest. 

"Ah me! how well I remember, then. 
When, full of pride and buoyant hope, 



ii6 DESOLATION. 

I essayed to wield the untiring pen, 

To startle the world with its strength and scope- 
Yet here I sit, an unknown old man. 
My life scarce measured by a span. 

''But all has faded, and all is gone, 
Naught left to cheer an unnerved old man : 

My eyes are dim, my work is done. 

And I sit and shake as the rough winds fan 

My shrivelled form, or toss my hair, 

So thin and white with age and care. 

''Yes, all is gone! and these mould' ring walls 

Alone remain to protect my form : 
Through gaping roof the soft snow falls. 

And the door scarce checks the assaulting storm 
The candle gives but a feeble light — 
Ah ! I'm alone on this blustering night. 

"Yes, I 'm alone! and my fingers press 
My aching head, as it throbs and burns 

With agony at my desolateness : 

All alone, alone ! as the wide world turns — 

Death, death alone can secure me rest." 



A SUMMER REVERIE. 117 

His head drooped slowly, his voice sunk low; 

His eyes were closed, as in peaceful sleep; 
His hands were folded, and soft and slow 

The snowflakes fell in a pure white heap ; 
The candle flickered— its life soon fled — 
The cold wind moaned— the old man was dead ! 



A SUMMER REVERIE. 

GENTLY the scented breath of blooming glades 
Steals o'er the sense, and calms the troubled 
breast. 
Torn with emotions wild. The cooling shades, 
With drowsy influence, lull the soul to rest. 

Each nodding flower waves its slender arms. 
And bends above the stream, as if to view, 

With harmless vanity, its mirrored charms, 
Or bless the soil from which its beauties grew. 



Il8 A SUMMER REVERIE. 

The soft repose of nature soothes the fears, 

The shimberous songs of msects drown the sighs, 

The sparkling dewdrops mock at fruitless tears, 
And all serenely smile the cloudless skies. 

The tvvitt'ring birds hop joyously about. 

And take what God bestows for every need ; 

While laughing children ring the merry shout, 
And sport with careless hearts upon the mead. 

Thus lulled by scenes so tranquil and serene, 
The spirit broods no more on earthly wrongs, 

But swells the hymn of praise through arches green 
That joins the symphonies of angel throngs. 




WHENCE AND WHERE? 



119 



WHENCE AND WHERE? 

T CAME, I know not whence — and go, 
•^ I know not where ; 
That germ from which we all do grow, 
Who can declare? 

A protoplasmic point in space 

From its own cells 
Produced and reproduced the race, 

So science tells ! 

This microscopic speck began, 

And, thus evolved 
This vast complexity, called man — 

So, all is solved ! 

We breathe, and live, and think, and move- 

This much I knew; 
And needed science not to prove. 

But whence and to ! 



I20 WHENCE AND WHERE? 

I ask of nature, learning, art. 

Whence this thing — thought? 

All wisely they confer apart, 
And tell me — what? 

Ah ! vain philosophers, ye search, 

But cannot find ; 
The wizard with his rod of birch 

Is not more blind. 

But when of my own soul I ask. 

Though in this clod, 
It says, as 'tAvere an easy task, 

''It came from God." 

And when I ask. Where is the goal? 

The sons of men 
Know not. But answers me, my soul, 

*'God takes again." 




